Ghost Whisperer: After Dark
by ShewolfSOS
Summary: Jim has dreams about a girl. He thinks he knows her, but does he? Find out in Ghost Whisperer: After Dark! Reviews are appreciated.


Ghost Whisperer: After Dark

Chapter One: Alone, With a Ghost

**Hey guys! I'm back! :D This is my first Ghost Whisperer fanfic! Hope you enjoy. Disclaimer: I do not own Ghost Whisperer, nor any of the characters used in this fanfic. **

**~Lady Quyn~...**

_Jim woke, startled. A woman stood over Jim's bed, staring at him. She didn't say anything, just stared. After that, her face was covered in blood, her eyes glowing red with sparks shooting from them. Jim felt numb. He couldn't move anything. There was a sudden flash, then darkness..._

Jim sat up abruptly. _What's going on with me? _he wondered. He switched on the lamp and climbed out of bed. Melinda, his wife, was out of town with a friend, so the house was empty. Which was beginning to make Jim feel very nervous.

And the dream...was he beginning to see ghosts? No. Only Melinda possessed that gift. But it was possible... He pushed the eerie thoughts from his head and walked down to the living room. He turned on the TV. Maybe a little noise would help. Jim sat down on the couch, watching TV. After awhile a slight banging on the front door could be heard. Curious, Jim stood. "Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?" He opened the front door. No one was there. He shook his head. _Weird, _he thought and closed the door. Maybe not having Melinda here was beginning to make him feel touchy.

He sat back down on the couch. The TV droned on. Then, the banging sounded again. This time, however, it came from the kitchen. _There must be someone else here, _Jim thought. He ventured into the kitchen. The lights suddenly flickered out. Then on, then back off again. _What the heck is happening? _He backed out of the kitchen only to stumble into a closet. The door slammed shut. Jim whipped around to see the girl from his dream standing in front of him. "It's you," Jim whispered. "Can you help me?" the girl pleaded, eyeing him. "Who are you?" Jim demanded. "You'll find out soon enough...Jim," the girl replied smoothly, smiling a not-so-friendly smile.

Their eyes locked. Jim felt numb. This couldn't be happening, could it?

The girl disappeared. The lights came back on. Jim could hear the chattering of the TV from the living room. Jim turned the TV off and went to bed, only to have more strange and troubling dreams. As soon as the first rays of sunlight came through the window, Jim called Melinda. "Hello?" came the voice on the other line. "Hey, Mel. It's me," Jim started. "Oh, Jim! Is everything okay at the house?" Melinda asked. "Well..." Jim trailed off. "Oh, I see. Hit me," his wife replied. Jim explained everything about the dreams and the ghost girl in the closet.

"Welcome to my life." Melinda sighed.

"Think you can come back to town?" Jim asked. "I don't know, honey. I'll be back in a few days," Melinda said. "Well, things are a little...chaotic here," Jim said. "And, besides, the ghost _knew _my name. That is downright creepy, if you ask me."  
Melinda laughed. "Well, now you know how I feel," she joked. She paused. "Maybe she was someone you knew before," she said in a more serious tone. "What? I couldn't have known her!" Jim insisted. "She's dead." Melinda sighed into the phone. "Well, I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised. "Okay. Love you," Jim said calmly.

"Love you, hon. Bye." Melinda hung up. Jim sighed. He might as well head over to the shop. He _had _promised he'd take over for Melinda while she was gone.

Jim walked into the shop. "Hey, Jim," Andrea, Melinda's assistant, greeted. "Hey," he replied. "You seem a little...off," Andrea said. He told her about the ghost. "Great. So now we have another witness." Andrea smiled. "What do you think's up?" she asked. "I don't know. I'm just as confused as you are," he replied. "Well, tell me if you see anything else," Andrea said. "Will do," Jim promised.

Soon after Jim had begun working, Melinda walked into the store. "Hi, Mel," Jim greeted. "What brought you here so early?"

Andrea asked. "Thought you were off on a vacation." Melinda shook her head and smiled. "Duty calls," she said. "So much for a break," Andrea said. "Anyway, about this ghost business," Melinda started, turning to Jim. "Do you think she wants to see me or you?"  
"Definetly me," Jim answered. "She called me by name, so she probably _does _know me." Andrea looked at Melinda. "The ghost knows him? Creepy." She shuddered. "That's what I said," Jim said. He paused. "I kind of feel like I know her, too. From the past..." He drifted off and stared out the window. The lights flickered on and off, on and off. "What the heck?" Andrea shrieked. She looked about ready to pass out. The radio turned on by itself. It switched from classical music to heavy rock. "What's going on?" Jim yelled over the loud guitar riff. "I don't know!" Melinda shouted. "This is normal for me."

The antique dolls on the front shelf started to move back and forth by themselves. Melinda plugged her ears. After what seemed like hours, the noise and movement subsided, and it was back to normal again. "Wow. She must really be ticked off," Jim said unsteadily. "No, really?" Andrea smirked. "We've got to do something," Melinda said confidently. Suddenly, the same girl from home appeared in front of them. "Help, please," she begged. "What is it you want?" Melinda asked softly. "Just help. Find mother," was all the girl said. "Wait. What is your name?" Jim asked. "I'm Margaret," the ghost replied and disappeared.

Chapter Two: Sometime Around Midnight

**What do you think so far? Is it scary enough? Please Review and/or PM me! Hope you like it.  
~Lady Quyn~...**

That night, Jim and Melinda went to the local graveyard. "Do you think she's buried here?" Jim asked. "Probably," Melinda replied. Jim bent down to look at a headstone. It read:

"Margaret Louise Peterson. 1976-1995. May she rest in peace."

"Melinda! I think I've found something!" Jim called. Melinda hurried over. "It _is _her," she breathed. Margaret appeared in front of them. "Why are you here?" she asked. "Are you here to help me?" Jim nodded. "Yes. We came to help you," he said. "Can you find my mother?" she said. "Who was your mother?" Melinda asked slowly. "Her name was Stephanie Peterson," Margaret began, closing her eyes as if trying to remember something. "She gave me up for adoption when I was a baby. She said she couldn't handle me." Margaret paused. "She was only sixteen years old; and she knew nothing of babies. She hated being a mother. So she just decided to give me away to a family that already had four kids." She shook her head. "Do you remember anything about your family?" Jim asked, suddenly curious about the ghost. She closed her eyes again. "Only fragments," she said sadly. "All I can remember is that we would travel a lot, and that my adopted parents were both singers who toured often."

"So, uh, did you ever go with them?" Jim asked unsteadily. "No." The ghost shook her head. "I stayed home and watched the younger kids," she said. A vision flashed before Jim's eyes: Him, as a teenager, dancing with a young girl at Prom night. He shook the vision away and shuddered. "What is it?" Melinda asked in a low voice. "I _do _know you," Jim whispered. "So you've finally figured it out, Jim," Margaret said. "Yes," Jim replied. "We knew each other from high school. We dated in the ninth grade." It all came back to him.

The dances, study hall, long night talks on the phone. How could he have forgotten it all? "I forgot it all," Jim said. Confusion swam in the ghost's eyes. "You forgot?" Margaret asked. "Yeah, and I'm sorry," Jim apologized. Melinda turned to her husband, just as confused as Margaret. "Jim, what's this all about?" she asked. "This is about us," Margaret snapped. "Leave her out of this," Jim cautioned. "Melinda has nothing to do with our dating-"

"Oh yes she does," scoffed Margaret, folding her arms across her chest. "It was because of _her _you and I broke up-"  
"What do you mean?" Melinda's tone sounded somewhat defensive. "Mel," Jim warned. Melinda ignored him. "I didn't cause you and Jim to break up," said Melinda. She turned to Jim. "Did I?" she asked softly. "No," Jim whispered. "But-"  
"Jim, it was her fault," Margaret whimpered. "You were the one that said I wasn't right for you!" She disappeared in a flash. "What was _that _all about?" Melinda demanded. "Nothing. She just seems jealous of you," Jim said. "You really think so?" There was a hint of sarcasm in Melinda's voice. "Mel, I'm sorry. Never mind her," Jim said.

"I'm sorry, too," Melinda murmured, leaning on Jim's shoulder.

"Don't be. It's just some business between me and her that's been kind of tense since we broke up," Jim said apologetically. They walked home. The subject quickly converted to every day things instead of ghosts. Melinda talked about how her (short) vacation had gone; Jim about work with Andrea. Soon they arrived home. The lights were all on in every room. "That's funny. Could've sworn I turned the lights out before leaving," Jim mused to himself quietly. "Maybe it was Margaret," Melinda suggested, unlocking the front door. They walked upstairs. Soon Jim slipped into bed next to his wife. After awhile of quiet talking, he finally fell asleep. But he had another dream.

_Jim ventured into the shop. It was dark and vacant; except for a few shadows here and there. Margaret's ghost appeared in front of him. "Why are you with her?" she hissed. "You mean Melinda?" Jim stared at her. "I love her, Marg. She's my wife."  
"Leave her!" Margaret demanded. "Leave her and be with me."  
"Marg, I'm sorry," Jim began, but she interrupted him. "I thought you loved me," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry," Jim repeated. "But I love my wife. I'll never leave her." Margaret breathed in, wiping tears from her eyes. "Then I'll never forgive you," she croaked. _

Jim woke with a start. He stood and walked over to the window. Did Margaret hate him now? Was that why he'd had that dream? He leaned his hands on the window ledge. "Jim?" Melinda murmured from the bed. "Are you okay?"  
"Yeah. Just had a weird dream," he replied, turning to look at her. "Margaret hates me... She wants me to leave you."  
"Oh, Jim," Melinda breathed. "It's nothing. I wonder if I should go talk to her," Jim said. "Then go. I'll be alright," Melinda told him.

Jim walked over to the graveyard. Margaret stood waiting for him at the gate. "Marg, were you in my dream?" he asked. "Yeah. I came into your dream," she said, "because I want you to know how I feel." Jim touched her shoulder. "You don't like Melinda, do you?" he asked, softly. "No." Margaret's voice was hoarse. "Why did you have to go?" she murmured. "I'm sorry," Jim whispered. "I love you, Jim," said Margaret. "Margaret, please reason with me," said Jim. "You're a ghost, and I'm alive. We can't date anymore. Besides, I have my own wife."  
"Yeah," Margaret said irritably. "But don't you know how I've felt all this time? You, with another woman? Me, dead, with no one?" Jim's heart ached for the dead girl. "Marg," Jim started. "Leave me alone!" Margaret's voice was shrill. "Just leave me alone." She disappeared. Jim sighed. Would things ever be the same for them? It seemed things were growing tense between them as time passed. "What have I done?" Jim mused quietly. He turned and walked back to the house.

The next morning at work, Jim got a call from Melinda. "Hello?" he said. "Hey, Jim, it's me. Margaret is here to see you, and she's very upset," Melinda told him. "Oh, no," Jim breathed. "Listen, tell her I can't come right now, but I'll be there in a little while." Melinda sighed. "I will. Talk to you later, Jim." She hung up. Jim felt sorry for Margaret and wished he could be there to calm her down. _She seemed like a nice girl on the inside, _he thought. _If only she weren't so stubborn. _"Jim!" one of the other firefighters said. "9-11 emergency. There's a house on fire down the street." Jim and the crew jumped into the truck, driving at a fast pace.

He only hoped he would get there in time.

Chapter Three: Just a Dream

**I know, getting a little tense, right? Anyway, here's the next chapter. Please Review. Constructive critsism (not sure how to spell that word lol) is welcomed. Disclaimer: I do not own Ghost Whisperer. However, I do own Margaret, my own character. **

**~Lady Quyn~...**

I was counting on forever, now I'll never know.

This can't be happening to me.

This is Just a Dream- (Carrie Underwood, Just a Dream.)

After work, as promised, Jim arrived at Melinda's shop, where Margaret was waiting for him. They stepped into the back of the shop, where they were alone. "I thought you loved me," Margaret said tearfully. "I wish I could Marg but-" Jim started. "You wish?" Margaret stared at him. "I still do love you, as a friend," Jim went on. "I thought we were dating!" the ghost protested, stepping back a little. "Not any more," Jim said slowly. "Jim, please," Margaret whimpered. "I'm sorry." Jim felt horrible. "I have to move on. And, you have to, too. You have to Cross Over-" She interrupted. "I will _not _Cross Over!" she cried, her voice shrill. "I never want to go there."  
"Why? It's the place for you," Jim reminded her. "You should Cross Over." Margaret's gaze fell on Jim. She was looking at him for the first time. "I won't," she said, "until you help me find my mother." Jim stared at her. "How are we supposed to do that?" he asked. "I don't know," Margaret said. "Promise me this," Jim said. "Yes?" Margaret asked. "Promise me that you'll Cross Over after I find Stephanie Peterson," Jim finished.

"I promise," Margaret swore. Jim hugged Margaret. Surprised, the ghost wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I know you're hurting," Jim said softly. "I- I can't move on," Margaret managed. They finally pulled away. "I'd better get going," Jim said quickly. "Jim?" Melinda called. "You should go." He sighed. "Yes, I was planning to anyway," she replied. She was gone, leaving Jim alone in the back of the store. "Jim," Melinda said, entering the room. "I had a talk with her," he began. "She asked me why I didn't love her anymore." Melinda sighed. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I love you, Mel," Jim said in reply. They hugged. "Do you think she'll manage after she Crosses Over?" Melinda asked. "What do you mean?" he whispered. "I mean, she'll probably miss you a lot," Melinda explained.

"I don't know how she'll deal with it. Oh, Melinda, I feel so bad for her," Jim said hoarsely. "I know; so do I," Melinda agreed. "She seems so unhappy, and I just want to reach out to her, to help her somehow, but I know she won't accept it." She sighed, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. "We should head home," she said quickly, changing the subject. Jim nodded and followed her out to the car. He was silent the drive home, just thinking. _Could this all be just a dream? _he wondered silently. _Could she still be alive? Or is Marg really dead? _It all felt like a dream. He felt as if he were dreaming and he couldn't wake up. Soon they arrived home. "Is it alright if Andrea comes over tonight?" Melinda asked as they walked into the house. "Yeah, sure," Jim replied. "Okay. Maybe a visitor could do us some good," Melinda said. "Someone living," Jim added, and Melinda laughed. "I've been wondering," Jim said, "how Margaret died." Melinda unlocked the front door. "You'll have to ask her," she suggested, and he nodded. Soon the subject changed to Andrea, but Margaret was on his mind. Did she hate him? No; that couldn't be true, she'd clearly said she loved him. Andrea arrived soon after they got home. While the girls chattered downstairs, Jim headed to the bathroom to take a shower. The fog built up on the mirror, and, when he got out of the shower, Jim saw something written on the shower. It said: "North, East, South, West."

"The cardinal directions," Jim said in a low voice. North was circled. What did that mean? Was it a clue or hint of some sort? Everything was all too confusing to Jim. He walked into the bedroom and got dressed, then headed downstairs. "Did you look in the bathroom?" he asked Melinda. "Uh, no. Why?" Melinda replied. "Well, the cardinal directions were written on the mirror," Jim explained. "That is way past creepy," Andrea said. "Yeah," Jim agreed. After Andrea left, Jim got ready for bed. As he walked into the bathroom, he noticed something else on the mirror: "North" was circled. After getting dressed, he climbed into bed only to fall asleep to another dream.

_The baby girl was torn from her mother's arms. She then was placed into a young woman's arms. The woman looked to be no older than twenty years old. "Please take care of her," the woman in the hospital bed begged. "I can't handle having a baby this young." The other woman nodded. "I will, Lauren. You have my word," she promised. The baby girl started crying, but this the other woman ignored. "Do you have a name picked out for her?" she asked the woman in the hospital bed. "Yes. Margaret," she replied softly. "My little Margaret..." She closed her eyes. "Lauren? Lauren. Lauren!" the woman next to the bed shrieked. "We need you to back away, ma'am," the nurse instructed firmly. "She's dying!" the other woman screamed. "I'm afraid so," said the nurse. "She's in good hands, Mrs. Peterson." The dying woman was carried out on the gurney. _

Jim startled awake, sitting up. He banged his head on the on the wall in the process. "Ouch," he muttered. Melinda was staring at him. "Jim, are you alright?" she asked. "Yeah, just another nighmare," he replied. "This time it was about Margaret's birth." He shivered and layed back down next to Melinda. "Her birth mother was there, too. She said she couldn't handle having a baby this young. Then she died. And that's when I woke up," he added. "Maybe it's something Margaret wants you to know about her past," Melinda mused. "I think Margaret is showing me how she was taken from her mother and adopted," Jim said.

After awhile, Melinda fell asleep again. Jim couldn't go back to sleep. He slipped in and out of nightmares; images flashing before his eyes. Some were violent, others peaceful. Some Jim and Margaret were together. Did these dreams mean anything?

Chapter Four: The Confession

**Well...there's not much to say except please Review.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ghost Whisperer, nor any of the songs used in the story. However, I do own Margaret Peterson and my own little plot:) **

**~Lady Quyn~...**

When Jim finally awoke from a restless night, Melinda was downstairs and Margaret was hanging over him. Jim sat up. "Are you going to find my mother?" she pleaded. "I- I don't know where she is," Jim stammered. "You had the dream," Margaret said. "My birth mother is dead. My only hope is to find Stephanie Peterson and apologize." Jim stared at her; puzzled. "When I was young," Margaret started, "I knocked over a lamp in the house. I killed myself and one of my brothers, whom I'd grown very close to over the years." She paused, her blue eyes filling with tears. "He cared for me. He was like the only person who ever did." Jim's heart ached, but he said nothing. "Now I've ruined his life. He's probably never forgiven me," she said coldly. "It's all my fault, Jim. My fault."

"It's not your fault," Jim said slowly. "You knocked over the lamp, it set fire to the rug, yes, but none of it is your fault."

"Don't tell me it's not my fault," Margaret hissed, "because it is!"  
"Marg-" Jim began, but she cut him off. "So are you going to help me or not?" Margaret demanded. "I suppose so," he muttered. "Good." The ghost disappeared in a flash. He sighed. She seemed so angry, so guilty. He felt pity for her. But how was he supposed to find a woman that lived who knew where? It was so confusing. "Jim?" Melinda shouted up the steps. "Yeah?" he called back. "I'm going to work; just call me if anything happens," she said. "Okay." He knew she was talking about the ghost incident. He got dressed and slipped downstairs. Melinda waved good-bye and climbed into the car. Jim pondered over Margaret: her confession, her guilt, her painful past. Why did she want him to help her? Melinda was better at this than he was, after all. She was the one who had the ability to see and help restless spirits.

Margaret appeared out of nowhere. "Jim," she said. "Where is your mother?" he asked, resuming the conversation. "If I knew, I wouldn't be looking for her, would I?" There was a hint of sarcasm in the ghost's voice. "I guess not," Jim replied. "No, really?" She rolled her eyes. "Where can I look for her name?" Jim asked. "Yellow Pages," the ghost said calmly. "There's such thing, you know." _Or the Internet, _Jim thought silently. He would search for "Stephaine Peterson" on Google later. "Where's Melinda?" This time Margaret sounded curious. "At work, why?" he replied. All emotions were wiped clean of Margaret's face. "Nothing. Never mind," she said quickly. Jim shrugged in reply.

"So Melinda can see ghosts?" Margaret asked. "Yeah," Jim said. "Maybe she can help you." Margaret shook her head. "No! This was meant for you and me, only," she said firmly.

"She could help you know," Jim reminded her. "I know." She kept her voice low. "I just don't want her in my business."

"It _is _her business," Jim said firmly. "She's a ghost whisperer, you know."

"I know, I know." She brushed him off. "I don't like her, Jim," she hissed. "She caused us to break up." Jim sighed. "For the last time, she did not cause us to break up," he told her. "How can you be certain?" Margaret shot back. She was angry now. "You said I wasn't right for you!" Her voice was shrill. She sunk to her knees. "I miss you," she sobbed. Jim felt sorry for Margaret, but there was nothing he could do to help her; she wouldn't let him. "Please, Marg," Jim said slowly. "What?" she shrieked, "what?" She continued crying. "Calm down," Jim ordered. "You'll give yourself a headache if you don't stop." Margaret didn't stop crying. Jim placed her on the sofa. After awhile, she cried herself to sleep.

"Poor Margaret," Jim murmured, sitting next to her on the sofa. "If only I could help her..." He drifted off. Why was he talking to himself? Idiot.


End file.
